Opening the Door: A Swording Story
by eriphi
Summary: The Last Centurion was kept firmly behind a door in Rory's head. He's just a little worried about what might happen when he finally lets the memories out.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: The Last Centurion was kept firmly behind a door in Rory's head. He's just a little worried about what might happen when he finally let's the memories out.

Rating: T (for lost limbs and general swording magnificence).

Author's note: This is another memory themed fic, in a similar vein to Wedding Night and Secrets. It is not necessary to read those first, but they do make an unintentional little story arc dealing with Rory's Roman memories. Perhaps now I've finished this one I'll have it out my system and I'll be able to write something else. Chronologically, it comes after America but before they meet the gangers. Pick your spot.

This was written for thegreatsporkwielder, who wanted a story about Rory saving the day by being awesome. This is the swording fic that I promised.

And as always, I'd love to know what you think about this. It's two chapters, and is all finished. The second chapter will be up in a couple of days.

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><p>Amy woke up with a headache and a dry mouth.<p>

Great. The hangover from hell. Again. Even her bed felt lumpy and uncomfortable. That was it, she decided. No more alcohol for her. She was going to stick with being the designated driver, and never drink again. It must have been a really good night, though. She could not remember where or what they had been drinking.

Rory was speaking to her, but she tried to bat him away. Did he not realise that she felt dreadful? If he was here, chances were he had been out with her. He should be feeling the same, unless he had been the lucky designated driver and was smugly hangover free.

"Go 'way Rory."

Instead of doing as he was told, Rory shook her by the shoulders and said, "Amy. Please. Wake up."

"Hangover, Rory. Give me another five minutes."

"No. Now, Amy. There's a problem."

The headache was beginning to recede slowly. She opened her eyes to a glare of white light that was definitely not from the bulb on her bedroom roof. It was not even the light above the top bunkbed in the TARDIS.

"Oh, yes. Problem," she said as she remembered.

It had started with an alien ship on the view screen ("Nice aliens. For Rory. Nice blue aliens, although the colour is not important. They've got an interesting line in ballroom dancing. Peaceful, lovely people. Been meaning to visit them for ages"). They had opened the door of the TARDIS and she had been pulled out before she even had a chance to see a blue alien. She was blindfolded, manhandled through miles of corridor then dumped. The last thing she could remember was a sweet smell in the air and Rory saying, "Is that poisonous gas?" She did not know what had happened to the Doctor.

Then she was being woken up with a headache like the worst hangover ever.

She used Rory to pull herself up to sit. "Okay, now that hurts. Are you all right? And where's the Doctor?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. And so was the Doctor when I saw him last, probably still with the TARDIS. He was cross. Really cross, but not hurt or anything. Of course, they did tie him up and gag him, so definitely a lot quieter than usual. I think he was worried about us. But he's the least of our problems at the moment."

She looked beyond Rory's worried face to the room they were seated in. The walls were painted in matt grey, scratched in places with words and numbers. Only some of the writing translated, and most of it was curse words and things like 'Effie was here'. There were no windows, and the only door was featureless grey steel.

The floor was worse. She wished she could un-see it, as it was the stuff of nightmares and bad B-movie horrors. Bones were scattered across it; skulls, ribs, long and short bones and some tiny little ones that looked like fingers. Most were bleached white, but some were almost orange. There had been different species here, she thought. Ragged material covered some of the bones; probably old clothing. There were metal buckles and shoes. She could see a breast plate, sword and helmet in one corner, and something like a sari in the other.

The word that came to mind was cell.

"All right. It's a cell. Are we locked in? Seen anyone yet?"

"Yeah. I've met them. They're, sort of blue."

He might have said more, but there was an electronic beep from the door and it swished open. The alien standing there was not quite what she had expected.

"Oh, you are an ugly one, aren't you?" she said. Normally that would be considered bad manners, but she had been blindfolded, gassed and was now a prisoner in a cell full of bones. She thought that a bit of cheek was the least they deserved.

The alien was a shade of blue that reminded her of a Crayola crayon from her pencil box as a kid. It had been a light blue called Cornflower, and it had always been left in the bottom of the case because it was not TARDIS blue. If the skin was Cornflower blue, the three eyes in the centre of the face were more of a Lemon Yellow. It was human height, and vaguely human shaped except for the extra leg and third arm. It had a slim tail that flicked like an angry cat's. Clutched in the three fingered hand was a black metallic object that was unmistakably some kind of gun.

"Okay," she said. "That is a problem."

"You are both awake. You are not dead. You will wait here," Cornflower said. The voice sounded male, deep and powerful like a singer in an opera pop-group.

"No. We're not staying her. Not with the scary bones and the dead people," Amy said angrily. "You take us right out of here and back to the Doctor, or, so help you I will..."

"Amy," Rory said. "I tried that the last time it came in."

"No offence, but I am way more threatening than you are."

The alien made a deep, bellowing noise that might have been laughter. "Neither of you are very threatening, children. But I am glad you are both functional and unbroken. Damaged merchandise requires a mark-down that is not good for business. So, as I said, you will stay here. I will make enquiries as to your species and the going rate in the Slave Markets of Ridisti."

He left through the cell door. The lock opened with a small electric fob attached to its belt like a janitor's set of keys. Amy would have lunged at it, but her balance was a little compromised by the poison gas. Rory was still having to hold her up.

"Now what?" Rory said when they were alone again. He was gazing at the dead things as if looking for inspiration.

"We get out of here, we rescue the Doctor and we find the TARDIS," Amy said. "I'm just not so sure how."

An hour later they were no closer to an answer. Amy had paced, fumed, shouted and sulked and they were still no further forward.

"I hate waiting," she yelled, at the closed door for the hundredth time. "Maybe you could just come in here and shoot us and put us out of our misery!"

She kicked the door and gave it a punch with one of her fists for good measure. It hurt, but that was not so bad. At least it was doing something.

"You, Cornflower, in here, now! What have you done with the Doctor? Because when he finds out and gets free, you are going to be in so much trouble that you'll wish you'd never been born. And then you'll wish that your grandparents hadn't been born because he's a time traveller and he can do these things and..."

"Amy," Rory said quietly.

"Don't interrupt. I'm in full flow here and..." She stopped as she looked at him. His expression was very serious. He looked like he'd made a decision about something, and he was not happy about it. "What is it?"

"I've got a plan."

"What kind of plan?"

"A really, really bad plan. One of those plans that makes me wish the Doctor was here, because he'd have a better one. But I can't think of anything else. I'm going to open a door."

"You can't open the door. It's locked. I've been hitting it for an hour."

"I don't mean that door. Another one. I can't explain it now, but when they come back in, you need to distract them for a minute..."

Before he could say more, the alien was back. With company.

They stood in the doorway. One was Cornflower. The smaller one was a darker shade; more like a Navy Blue crayon. It stood with the unmistakeably threatening air of a short bouncer at a nightclub. The six eyes stared into the room unblinking. The little one had a gun pointed at Amy and Rory. Cornflower said, "You, children, are fortunate today. The slave markets have confirmed your species as hu-man. Healthy specimens can be sold at auction for up to ten thousand Galactic Credits."

"Fortunate! Great. You can sell us. I feel really fortunate." Distract them, Rory had said. She would try her best.

"There are other options. You would not like them."

"Are you trying to scare us? Is that what happened to them? Did you use your other options?" Amy demanded, pointing at the bones that scattered the floor.

"Them? Yes. They were our previous aquisitions. Some species just do not sell at the slave markets. Feeding and keeping prisoners cost money. This is just economics."

"And what about the Doctor?"

"He is a special order. There is an outstanding bounty on the last of the Time Lords in this part of the Galaxy. We have confirmed that the buyer is still active and will pay us ten years profit. It will be enough to refit our ship and build up our crew again. I am sorry that you became entangled in this business opportunity, however, you may be lucky. I hear hu-mans have a reputation for excellent and interesting service, and you may find yourselves good homes. Now, my colleague will see you to your new quarters where you will be prepared for the market."

Navy Blue pointed the gun at Amy and waved towards the door.

"Amy. Get out of the way," Rory said.

She had been so busy distracting the aliens, she had not looked at him. She did so now. He was reaching for something on the floor. His shoulders were tense and there was a look in his eye that she had never seen before. It reminded her of what she had said to Cornflower about being threatening.

Suddenly, Rory did look like a threat.

"Children. You should do what you are told."

"Amy," Rory said again. "Get out of the way."

"What are you doing?" Cornflower asked.

"Yes, Rory, what are you doing?" Amy asked too, but she moved to the side a little. She spotted what he was reaching for; the sword that was still half hidden beside the breastplate and helmet.

"Look, this isn't going to be like the Vampire Fish is it? 'Cause they had swords, but these guys have guns!"

"No. It's not going to be like that at all." His voice was cold and... she struggled to find in the word... professional. It did not sound like her Rory at all.

He moved slowly and deliberately while staring at the aliens. Without hesitation, he put his hand on the hilt. He lifted it to test its weight. The grip was awkward for a human hand and the blade was too long to seem proportional, but he seemed satisfied by it. He angled the point towards the floor. "You don't really want to hurt us, do you? I mean, that would make it more difficult to sell us. Like damaged goods, you'd have to do a mark down or something. That wouldn't be such good economics."

"Agreed," Cornflower said. "You should not do anything stupid. Sometimes slave owners can be most generous. You could have a good life. Perhaps someone will be able to buy both of you and you will be able to keep your lady. I'm sure some creatures may find it most... interesting."

"No. I don't think we'll do that. We're leaving now. You are going to take us back to our friend, and we'll go and you never have to see us again. It's a good deal. Please."

"That is not a good deal. Damaged merchandise is better than none at all. How are we supposed to make any profit if you just fly away in your little blue box? Now, granted, we won't get anything like as much for the two of you as we will for your friend, no matter how pretty and pink you are, but there is a reasonable profit to be made. I calculate fifty per cent loses could be absorbed into financial outlay. So you should go with my colleague."

"I thought you'd say something like that."

"Ensure they realise that we are not making empty threats. Shoot the girl. Something non-fatal, perhaps a leg..."

The alien raised its gun. Amy was about to shout out, but Rory was faster. Far faster than Amy thought possible. One moment the sword was hanging idly from his hand, the next it was moving in a blur that was too quick for her eye to catch. It intersected with the barrel just as the alien was about to press the trigger, then the gun seemed to leap out of the alien's hand and fly across the room into a pile of bones in the corner.

Rory brought the point of the sword to the top of an arc, then it swung back into a fighting stance. The point was inches away from Navy Blue's eyes. It hung there full of menace. There was no doubting the intent. He was ready to fight.

"Both of you," Rory said. "Don't make any sudden moves. Put your hands in the air. Or, I promise, this one gets more than a leg wound." He edged the sword forward an inch or so until it most touched the alien's middle eye.

Amy was further back, and in a better position to see both aliens. She could see Cornflower moving its hand down towards the gun holstered on its belt.

"Rory, watch out!" she shouted.

She realised she was too late. Rory had seen, and was reacting before she had opened her mouth.

Without seeming to move at all, he brought the sword down. It was a efficient movement without dramatic flare. One minute the alien was touching the gun, the next Rory's sword had cut off the whole hand. The severed limb splatted to the floor, followed by the clatter of the gun. With the same speed and sparsity of movement he brought the sword back to eye level, and this time balanced it in front of Cornflower's eye. The alien was quivering and making a small squealing noise. Green fluid dripped off the sharpened edge of the sword.

"I said don't move. You should have listened." Rory said again.

"Not. Not!" Cornflower said. "Not moving!"

Navy Blue said, "Not. I not."

"Rory?" Amy started to say, but he interrupted.

"Get the guns."

She scampered to collect the gun that had been thrown across the room first. Then she picked up the other more gingerly. It was covered in the same green gunk that was dripping from the sword. Blood, she thought. She clutched them close, despite the mess.

"Now. Put them in the corner. Under some bones."

"But they're guns. They could be helpful. We've still got to rescue the Doctor."

"Do you know how to fire them? I don't. First rule. A weapon's only as effective as the hand that wields it. We don't know how to use them, so they're useless. Worse than that, really. Put them away."

As she tucked them under a pile of bones, she muttered, "Great. Now you go all Doctor on me. We had guns. Now we don't. And you want to bet the rest of the aliens do?"

"I've got a sword, Amy. That's enough."

And there it was again. A coldness in his voice that Amy did not recognise.

"Now. Give her the keys."

Cornflower removed the electric fob with an uninjured hand, then handed it to Amy without looking away from the sword. The key was a small, featureless thing with a blinking light.

"You are fools if you think you can get off this ship. We may not have our full complement of officers at present, but you are still outnumbered and flying through space," he said. "What do you think you can do against a squadron of our slave collection team? With a strip of metal and a door key?"

"We don't need to get off your ship. We're going to get our friend."

She used the key to unlock the door the same way Cornflower had earlier. It opened into a corridor painted the same matt grey. She glanced left and right to confirm it was empty. There was no sign of more aliens. "It's clear."

Rory still had the sword poised. He sidestepped past Cornflower while he held it level with the middle of its three eyes. Neither alien moved. Rory edged around until his back was to the door, then he stepped into the corridor too. Amy slammed the fob against the locking device and it slid closed.

She could hear movements inside. It felt good to think that the aliens were banging on the door in frustration just as she had a moment ago.

For they stood in silence. Amy had a million questions, but she could not think which one to ask first. There was something brittle about the situation. She felt like she was walking on the ice and jumping up and down would break it. And she was Amy Pond. She did not feel like that very often.

"Now what do we do?" she asked quietly, afraid that even that would break the spell.

"They're going to send for reinforcements," Rory said without looking at her. "They must have communication devices, so any minute a whole pile of them are going to come around a corner. It's going to have to be a fight."

"Do you think you can..." she started to ask, but they were interrupted by shouts echoing from the left.

"Okay. That was quick. Give me a second to think."

"Come on," she said, and grabbed Rory's arm to pull him away from the noises. Mercifully that part of the corridor was quiet.

But Rory did not move.

"Rory. Move. We need to get out of here."

"We need to find the TARDIS and the Doctor."

"Agreed. Come on, Rory."

"No. We won't find the TARDIS that way. Don't you see? The aliens were with the TARDIS. Those two radioed for help, so the other ones are coming to get them. All of them. We have to meet them and then get past them. This way."

"You mean, we have to go towards the angry aliens with guns?"

He did not look at her.

"Aliens, Rory. Angry aliens with guns."

"We're in a space ship with tight corridors. It's highly defensible and they don't want to damage the merchandise. That gives us enough of an advantage. And it's easier to pick a position than to have one forced upon you while in retreat. Come on."

He started to walk towards the sounds of approaching aliens. Amy hurried behind in something like shock.

They had only passed a couple of corridors when they met the rest of the aliens. She counted a dozen staring at them. They all had their guns out of their holsters.

"You will return to your cell," one said. An especially tall, Cerise one.

"No," said Rory.

"Put down your weapon, child. It is a strip of metal. These are displacer pistols. We would prefer not to use them. You are quite valuable to us, and it would be better if you were not damaged."

"Amy. Get back. I mean it this time."

"No way. I'm not leaving you here."

"It wasn't a question," he snapped. "Do it now. Please!"

Amy moved back. Every part of her cried out not to leave Rory alone, but there was something about the tone of his voice which scared her into obedience.

"Little boy," the blue alien said. "Put down your toy and go back to your cell."

"This is the last time I'll warn you," Rory said in that cold, not-Rory voice. "Stand down. Get out of my way."

The aliens shared a glance at each other. Cerise smiled, baring rows of sharp pointed teeth.

"Okay. I warned you," Rory said.

What happened next was impossible. Amy could not imagine how it happened, yet the noise and smell and sight of it bombarded her senses. It was hard to follow, like one of those scenes in a movie where they show the action from multiple angles so the audience can keep track.

The main problem was that it was Rory. Or, at least, someone who looked like her plain, ordinary, gorgeous Rory, but was obviously someone else entirely.

Only Cerise actually had its weapon raised into a threatening posture, so he went for that one first. His sword was moving faster than Amy could watch, and faster, it seemed, that his opponent could follow. The alien loosed one round, but Rory had anticipated that and had sidestepped before it fired. In a fluid motion, the gun was swiped from the creature's hand and bounced harmlessly to the floor. The return swing took the blade through its arm. The severed limb fell to the ground and the creature screamed.

For a second Amy could not take her eye off the arm as it leaked green fluid on the deck. The fingers still twitched a little and Amy wanted to scream louder than the alien.

When she looked back up at Rory, he was holding back the crowd of aliens almost, it seemed, with ease. This was not glamorous fencing like the Olympics, or that clever acrobatic sword fighting that happened in films. This was business; a workman-like stab and thrust that lacked finesse, but by jove, it got the job done. Aliens fell to the swipe of the sword each time Rory moved, or were caught by the powerful stabs that thrust into their bodies.

The aliens had their guns out, but seemed reluctant to fire, as if they could not quite decide where Rory might be next. The narrow corridor meant that none of them had enough room to aim without risking their fellows being caught in the crossfire. A couple loosed shots, but they were carelessly targeted and never seemed to cause a danger.

All the time screaming filled the air and the floor became slick with green fluid.

Rory pierced a short sky blue alien through the shoulder and had pulled the sword loose even before the shock crossed its face. Another shoved forward and raised its gun. Rory used the momentum from pulling the sword free to swing around and smack the flat of blade across its face.

Amy could not keep track of the number of aliens that felt the sword, but each one that did fell to the ground. Some writhed or cried out, but others did not. As she looked at them from the relative safety of her position, one met her eye. It stared at her, and she realised that there was fear in its eyes. Then it squeezed them closed tightly as if it could pretend to be dead.

Now the injured were now causing problems of their own. They clogged up the corridor and reduced the space for movement. This was equally an issue for the aliens as much as it was for Rory. The sheer press of numbers, obscurely, had been Rory's advantage. Now, though, he had to pay attention to where he stepped. The floor was littered with bodies and fallen guns. Green ichor covered everything.

There were fewer aliens now standing, and those must have been the smarter ones. Two moved towards Rory over their fallen comrades. They were moving together and their guns were drawn. Rory could not take out both at the same time.

His sword dipped as if from exhaustion. He glanced behind him, but did not look at Amy. He was looking at the floor, perhaps to find a way out.

"Rory!" Amy yelled. She was too far away to help, but started to run forward.

He stepped back. His foot touched a slick puddle of green fluid. In slow motion, he seemed to slip and fall backwards.

Amy yelled again. She was still too far away.

He hit the floor and scrambled at something. Amy saw the aliens share a look and bring up their guns.

Without meaning to, she squeezed her eyes closed. She should watch. She knew she should, but her heart could not bear seeing Rory killed again.

Then, bam! Two short concussions filled the air and her ears rattled with the pressure change. Guns.

When she opened her eyes it took a moment for her brain to process what it could see. Unexpectedly, the two aliens were no longer standing. They were lying in among their comrades and leaking more fluid on the deck.

There was a small puff of steam from a gun, but it was not in an alien's grip. Rory had one of the discarded guns clutched in his left hand still in a firing position. He aimed it at the only alien left standing. It took one last look at them with something that might have been terror in its expression. Then it ran.

The corridor was strangely quiet, despite the panting and pained noises of the aliens. Rory stood up. Without looking at the injured and bleeding creatures at his feet, he checked Amy from top to toe.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She did not know what question to ask first. She had no idea what had happened. So she said the first thing that came into her mind, "I thought you didn't know how to use the guns?"

"I improvised. It doesn't mean I had to like it." But he stuck the gun into pocket of his jeans with the grip in easy reach.

"Are you going to use it again?"

"Not if I can help it. Okay. Come on. We can't stay here. They might be going to get reinforcements."

"How many do you think were on the ship? There can't be that many more."

"They always send more. They don't seem to know when to stop." His voice was quiet, as though he was remembering something from long ago.

"Hey," she said softly and touched his hand. It was a relief to find his skin warm.

He shook his head as if clearing a memory. "No, sorry. Wrong time. We need to find the Doctor and the TARDIS."

They stepped over the wounded aliens. None of them moved. Amy glared at those who were still conscious, but Rory walked past the bodies as though they were not there. Somehow, that was scarier than the fighting had been.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: As promised, chapter two. This part of the story fills a bit of the gap between the Rory Pond of the Day of the Moon, and the Last Centurion in a Good Man goes to War. I hope you enjoy.

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><p>The ship was a maze of corridors and branches. Amy was lost almost immediately, so she just followed Rory's confident stride. He made right and left turns without hesitation, but seemingly at random.<p>

"Where are we going?" she asked. "This better not be like that time in Blackpool. We were lost for hours."

"Twenty minutes. We were lost for twenty minutes. And we're going back to the TARDIS."

"How do you know where to go? Didn't they blindfold you?"

"Yes. But I know where to go too. It was dark for a long time, and the other senses started to compensate. I started to wonder if I would ever see daylight again," he trailed off quietly as though she was not there.

"What do you mean?" She grabbed his arm and pulled him around to face her. "Rory, what are you talking about? Is this, I don't know, Pandorica-Roman stuff? You said you were just going to open a door."

He did not look at her and tried to squirm out of her grasp. "Later, Amy. Not now. I'll tell you later. Please. Leave it."

"Right. Later. I'll be waiting, and you'd better tell me everything."

She released him and he lead the way into yet more empty corridors.

Twenty minutes later, just as she was getting tired of following and about to demand an explanation again, he stopped at a bare door. It was no different from any of the others that they had passed. "This is the first door they opened. The TARDIS landed in there."

It was shut. They stood staring at it for a moment. She half expected him to do some weird Roman trick, but he looked just as uninspired as she felt. The door had no handle, but there was a small pad attached to the frame at waist height. There were no buttons or other controls.

"Okay then," Amy said eventually. "How do we get in?"

"I've no idea. Try the key."

She slapped the electric fob against the panel. The little light on top dimmed, but the door stayed closed. She tried it a couple of times just in case, but no success.

"Okay. Where's a sonic screwdriver when you need it? Can't you, I don't know, shoot out the lock or something?"

"That doesn't really work. I tried it a few times and it just fried the doors. They never opened again. I was getting to understand how useful the screwdriver really was."

"Well, I don't know! What about hitting it?"

"It's a spaceship, Amy. I don't think you can just go around hitting things and expecting them to open..."

"It used to work on your car door. And you're not really giving me much to work with. What harm could it do?"

She gave the panel a hard slap that stung her skin. It flared briefly under the shape of her hand, then darkened again. There was something sinister about it. She glanced at Rory, but he looked away.

"Genetic identification in progress," said a computerised voice from the panel. "Slave species identified. Unauthorised presence in Storage Area. Do not move. You will not be harmed."

The lights around them flickered to red and bathed the corridor in a blood-like glow. As if that was not bad enough, an alarm squealed at the decible level of a rock festival. Over the noise, the computerised voice continued; "Unauthorised presence detected. Unauthorised presence detected. All slave collection squadrons and ancilliary support staff to defensive protocol. Unauthorised presence detected..."

"Oh, not good," Amy said. "Maybe we should just get out of here?"

Two force fields shimmered to life along the corridors cutting off their retreat.

"Even better," she said.

Rory took out the gun from his pocket. He seemed dubious, but aimed it at the control panel of the door anyway. His grip was awkward, as though it felt wrong in his hand. "I can try, but I'm just saying it only worked once. On a wooden door."

"Do you have any other ideas?"

"No."

"Right then, Rory. Just do it."

Two concussions thumped against her eardrums again as he fired. Smoke issued from the panel.

The door did not move, even as Amy pushed against it. Rory lent his weight too, but it stayed closed.

"So it's time to turn on the fancy sword work again. I'll just get out of your way again, like the last time..."

"It's not going to be like last time," Rory said as he glanced up and down the corridor. "There was only one front then, so everyone got channelled into a small area. Now there are two, just like how the Spartan's were defeated at Thermopylae. Haven't you read Herodotus... Actually, no, never mind. Just required Roman reading. Bottom line; if they come at us from both sides, then we're probably going to die."

"Can I help?"

"Try to shoot some."

She put out a hand and Rory was about to give her the gun, when the door opened behind them.

Inside was the reassuring blue of the TARDIS doors just where they must have left her. There had not been a chance to look around before with the blindfold and abduction, but it definitely seemed to be some kind of store room. There were various pieces of equipment scattered around, but Amy's eye was immediately drawn to a chair in the middle of the room. The Doctor was securely tied to it. He looked both surprised and pleased to see them.

He would have said something, except for gag around his mouth.

"Untie him," Rory said.

Amy did as she was told. She took out the gag first. "Amy," the Doctor said. "Hello. Knew you'd come. What happened?"

"I'm not really sure. It might take a wee while to tell you all of it..."

"They're coming closer. I think they're past the force fields." Rory announced.

"Force fields. That's nice," said the Doctor.

"It's not nice. Aliens with guns. Angry aliens. With guns. We need to get out of here."

"Not yet, Rory. I'm afraid we can't go yet. I have something to do."

"No, really. We don't want to be hanging around when they arrive. We should probably get far away from here. They are not going to want to stand about and have a conversation."

There was real fear in his voice, Amy realised, but he was not in any hurry to leave. He stood at the doorway, and his hand fidgeted on the alien sword. The Doctor grinned. "Well, they'll just have to do listening then, won't they."

"Amy, tell him." Rory said urgently and stared at her. For the first time since he pointed the sword at Cornflower, he was looking at her properly. His face was pale under the alien gunk and a red line of blood ran from where he had bitten through his lip. Quietly, and with deadly conviction, he said, "Do not make me do that again."

She was horrified. She knew she might never understand what this cost him. "Okay. Doctor. Rory's got a point. We should leave. I don't think they will want to see us."

"Look, don't worry about it. I'm the Doctor. Have I ever had a bad idea before? Well, except for the one that brought us here in the first place. And there was that one that..." He paused, then continued. "Pretend I didn't ask. I told you they were nice aliens. Rory wanted 'nice aliens', and these were supposed to be nice, so we can't have them roaming the galaxy kidnapping strangers. I won't take long. Stay over there beside the TARDIS." He wriggled his feet clear of the last of the ropes.

"Doctor, you don't understand," Rory tried once more. "I've done something..."

The Doctor patted him on shoulder. "I'm sure it wasn't that bad."

"Well, it might have been worse than you think..."

An alien appeared at the door, then another. It was impossible for Amy to guess what shade of blue they were because of the lights. They lingered near the doorway as if worried to come closer. Their eyes watched Rory and their guns were out, but they had obviously decided that caution was the better part of valour.

Their wariness seemed to be unnecessary. Amy had moved up close to her husband and gripped his free hand. He was shaking. The alien sword that had served him so well hung limply at his side. Even in the red glow she could tell that his face was grey. At the moment he was no more a threat than a child.

The aliens should have been more wary of the Doctor.

"Enough," he said in a voice loud enough to be heard over the alarms. He pointed the sonic screwdriver at the roof and pressed a button. There was silence. "Were the alarms really necessary? Could damage your hearing with that one. Now that I have your attention, I don't think you ever gave me a chance to introduce myself. I'm the Doctor. I think you might have met Amy and my Centurion friend? Last one, you know. Last Centurion. I like that. Great title, Rory. You should keep it."

The aliens looked at each other uncertainly.

"I have heard of you, and this is not the welcome I'd expected. Nice aliens, I said to my friends. Rory... Last Centurion Rory, complained about the last place we visited, although I thought the lava snakes were interesting. In a hissy, firey, stoney sort of way. So I promised him nice aliens. I even said there would be ballroom dancing, although I'm not sure he was really that interested in that part."

"You talk, Doctor. But your words are nothing," one alien said.

"All right then. To business." The Doctor's expression changed. Suddenly his voice was cold and full of power. "You thought you could capture me, take my TARDIS and hurt my friends?"

The aliens did not answer.

"You were wrong. Read your files again. Whoever put the bounty out wasn't paying you enough to take me on. I've been around the block a few times. I've made some powerful enemies. Some of them might pay a lot of money to capture me." He waved his arms expansively. "But if I've made powerful enemies, just think about what my friends must be like. Because these are just two of them. And if I'm right, they just chewed up and spat out your finest slave acquisition team. If I were you, I'd go and tend to your injured. Lick your wounds and be grateful that we are just going away. And a word of advice. Find a new use for this fine ship of yours. Because I will come back. And if you haven't learned your lesson, just remember that the TARDIS is full of empty corridors. I could bring a lot more friends the next time."

He stepped forward. "Be glad you are walking away today."

"Our people..." the alien said.

"Will be fine. Go and bandage them up. And count your blessings."

He gestured at them. Amy thought that as dramatic moments went, it probably lost something by the fact that Rory dropped the sword at exactly the same time. He was trembling so badly that she wondered if they would even make it back to the TARDIS.

"Doctor," she said.

He glanced back, and obviously made a decision.

"So, you've been warned?" he said with a wave of his finger. "You won't do it again. Yes. Good. We'll be off then."

He darted back to the TARDIS clicking his fingers to open the door as he ran. Amy was never so relieved to see the familiar orange light and welcoming lines. Home, she thought.

She shoved Rory inside where he landed on the floor in an uncoordinated pile of limbs.

The Doctor dived in after them and pulled the door closed.

"Right. Hold on," he said.

Amy grabbed Rory's arm with one hand and the nearest piece of tied down furniture with the other. The TARDIS lurched.

"Right," the Doctor said when it became still again. "Geosynchronous orbit around the eighth moon of the seventh planet of the most inconsipicious star at the most boring time of its existence. About four hundred years later than a minute ago. So, a moment then, Rory, to see what you've done."

Rory was still trembling, but at least he managed to look at the Doctor. He did not pull away from the sonic screwdriver as it shone into his eyes.

"Okay. A lot more Centurion at the moment, aren't we?" the Doctor said.

"Yeah, I know."

"And how do you feel?"

"Like I'd rather just be Rory again. And that I'm probably going to be sick."

"Right." The Doctor tapped a panel on the floor. It opened to show a neat pile of the cardboard sick bowls used in hospital. He gave one to Rory, who promptly emptied his stomach.

"TARDIS travel can cause motion sickness. Not my driving though, just so you are clear. It's not pleasant, and it always helps to be prepared so I keep a supply of these things. Make great hats, but that's for another time," the Doctor explained to Amy. She kept an arm across Rory's shoulder until the worst of the retching subsided.

When he looked up again, he was even paler.

"Please don't ever ask me to do that again."

"I never asked. You did it all yourself," said the Doctor.

"Yeah. Okay. So, don't put me in a position were I have to do that again."

"I can't promise that. What would you have preferred? They were slavers, Rory. They were going to sell you, probably torture you. You were saving your lives. And mine, I suppose, although I was working on an escape."

"I said I would never, ever do that again. Not again. It's the plastic copy that's stuck inside my head. I never learned how to do all that stuff. It wasn't me."

He was shaking so badly that Amy could only gather him into her arms and rock him gently as he sobbed.

"I thought you were magnificent," she whispered. "You saved us."

"I killed them all, Amy. They all died."

"It's all right, Rory. Hush. It's all right. Isn't it Doctor?"

"All right? Of course it's all right. Everything's always all right. There are a few facts to straighten out, but first let's get the Centurion back where you can see him again. Although I'm not sure he's going to go back behind the door again."

"What do you mean?"

"You can't just let him out and pretend that it never happened. Every tried to get jelly back in the mould? Tricky, and makes a very big mess. There's always gaps that can't be filled, and little bits of jelly left over. Of course, with jelly you can always eat the leftover bits, and that doesn't really work so well with memories, but, actually... Yeah. Bad analogy. Not really important. Amy, go to the glass drawer on the console and bring over the emergency supplies."

She reluctantly let go of Rory, who managed to stay upright, if a little wobbly.

The drawer was hidden under the main console in one of those places she had never seen before, but was obvious now she was looking for it. The TARDIS had lots of such nooks. A neatly printed message on the front said 'break glass in case of emergency'. She did. Inside was a small thermos flask of tea and two shrink wrapped digestive biscuits.

Rory's hands were still shaking as she thrust the cup of tea into them. He managed a small sip before spilling the rest. On his second attempt he swallowed a couple of gulps before she rescued it and handed him a biscuit. He nibbled a corner.

"All right," the Doctor said. "Let's see. Any improvement?" He shone the screwdriver into Rory's eyes again and smiled at the result. "Okay. That's more like it. Now, tell me what happened. All of it."

Amy explained, "After they blindfolded us, and gassed us, they took us to a cell full of skeletons. Real, dead skeletons all piled around the floor. A bit freaky, really. The blue guys said they were going to sell us at a slave market and that there was a bounty on you. Then... then Rory picked up a sword went all... all Last Centurion."

"I opened the door," Rory said quietly. "You know the door that the Roman stuff hides behind? I opened it properly, so that it was just like being back there. A proper Roman, with real Roman teachers, and swords."

"And more?" the Doctor prompted quietly.

"Yeah. Proper fighting too. I had to protect the Pandorica, and sometimes just being a scary bloke in a cape wasn't enough. I had to fight them. Real kill-them-dead-fighting. I didn't want to, and I would just try to scare them off mostly. But, some of them were... determined. Really determined. I hated using the gun, but, well, I didn't have a choice. And I'm really, really sorry. I didn't want to be a killer."

"Oh, Rory. If you are a killer, then you are probably the worst one I have ever met. Didn't I tell you I choose my companions carefully? Amy, how many aliens did you see die today?"

"I don't know. Not many."

"I bet there wasn't one. You might have learned to fight as a Plastic Centurion, Rory. But you are still Rory. Slightly boring, ordinary Rory. And definitely not a killer."

"The soldiers died when I fought them off during the Crusades."

"But you were right. There wasn't any choice. You had to protect the Pandorica. If it had been stolen then who knows what would have happened. Maybe it would have opened at the bottom of the North Sea. Or never got to the British Museum. Or... well, you get the idea. All kinds of what ifs you had to prevent. You learned how to fight as a necessity to protect the person you love. And I bet you never hurt someone that you didn't have to, or killed someone that would have stopped any other way. So. Necessity. Guilt trip over, yes?"

"A little."

"Good. And another thing. Those aliens today have quite an impressive regenerative capacity. Like starfish. All that green gunk on your clothes contains enough cellular regenerative material to regrow a couple of dozen limbs. The people you fought as a Centurion died because they were a danger to your family, but also because there was no medicine to treat them. Today you left some aliens with a bit of a headache and the inconvenience of a broken finger nail. A few days and they'll be right as rain. Although, I think you might have taught them some lessons. Finish your tea. I want to show you something."

Amy helped Rory up and they came to stand at the controls. The Doctor pulled down one of the screens. "Remember I told you they were a peaceful species."

"I remember. The ballroom dancing," said Amy.

"Well, I was right, as always. Just a little bit early, which also happens fairly often. We're now four hundred years in the future and they are among the most peaceful people in this corner of the galaxy. But they used to be slavers. That was their history."

There was a ship on the video screen.

"Opening communication channels." He flicked a couple of switches. "I've love saying that. So sci-fi."

The ship on the screen was replaced with a three-eyed, blue alien. Aquamarine, Amy thought.

Instinctively Rory shrank back.

"Hi," the Doctor said. "I'm the Doctor."

The alien's face seemed to frown. "The Doctor. That's interesting. There was an important figure in our history who also called himself the Doctor. You look similar. Are you the same one?"

"Yes I am. I said I would come back."

"And did you bring any friends?"

Amy shoved Rory forward. "Yes," she said. "We're here. You'd better have been well behaved."

"Yeah," Rory muttered.

Aquamarine jumped. Then he began quivering. "You. Is it you?"

"Umm. Yeah. Hi. Sorry."

"No. Don't be sorry. Look! Come and see! Look!" he said to someone off camera to the left. A pile of aliens gathered around the screen until it was crammed with blue alien faces all trying to talk at the same time.

"Doctor? What is going on?"

The Doctor was beaming. "I told you. Worst killer ever, Rory Pond. I think this is your fan club."

"It is the Last Centurion," an alien said.

"He said he would come back."

"Have we been worthy?"

"The Last Centurion."

"Look. It's the Last Centurion."

Finally Aquamarine said, "Quiet. Centurion, we have tried to live by your example."

Rory glanced at the Doctor and Amy. His face had drained of colour again.

"What example?" Amy asked.

"Hundreds of years ago, we were a different people. We traded slaves, and I am ashamed that many died at our hands. Then we were visited by the Last Centurion and he... you taught us the error of our ways. We were a violent people. Death and dying were a part of us that we did not fear. How do you think we evolved limbs that grow back so easily? We fought each other and anyone we found. Then you escaped us and fought us without killing. We had never experienced that before. We learned, first through fear, then through wisdom about the adventure of life. And we followed your example. Never hurt someone that you do not have to, never kill someone who would have stopped any other way."

The Doctor nudged Rory. "See. I told you. That's a famous saying," he whispered.

"And we learned about dancing. Would you like to see?"

A chorus of alien voices started up again, agreeing.

"It's all right," Rory murmured.

Amy nudged him. "It'll be good. Come on."

"Yes, Rory. Come on and meet the civilisation whose path you changed. One man and all that." To the aliens he said, "We'll be over in a minute. Hold that dancing thought."

He flipped a switch and the screen darkened back to stars with the small ship.

"Look, Doctor," Rory said. "I don't think this is really much better."

"What's not to like? You saved yourself and Amy and me from slavers. You changed a group of blue aliens into peaceful adventurers. Not a bad day's work. And I think you created a bit of a legend. Now what do you say to some dancing?"

"Great. Dancing. Brilliant," he said so half-heartedly that Amy laughed.

"That's the spirit."

"I'll need to get dressed," Amy said. In her head she planned her outfit. "Cleopatra would be nice. Sort of fitting, don't you think. I'll be back in a moment."

But before she left, she kissed her Last Centurion on the lips. "I love you, Rory Pond. You are magnificent."

For the first time all day, he smiled.

_The end._


End file.
